Modern Dance Moves
by glambertcello
Summary: Steve isn't enjoying Tony's New Years party, especially when he remembers that Peggy was to teach him how to dance. So what happens when a taser-happy girl invites him to dance to... Gangnam Style? Steve/Darcy. I don't own the Avengers! Or Gangnam Style!


"Are you Steve Rogers?"

Steve felt his shoulders stiffen, not quite in the mood to deal with a fan. He'd already had enough of Tony's party—what with all of the rubbing, touching, skin, and offensive music—and he'd already been forced to socialize with a couple of his fans. Most of them were girls, just seeking his attention so they could brag to their friends about _talking with Captain America_. The first had been fine, but twenty awkward conversations later, he had found himself exiting through the doors to the balcony, muttering something about watching for the fireworks.

_You just like fireworks_, he'd tried convincing himself, but he knew that wasn't the truth. Sure, he _did_ enjoy the displays, full of bright colors and brilliant designs, but that wasn't why he was so eager to get out of the stuffy room. Especially since they wouldn't be starting for another hour.

No, all of the dancing made him think of Peggy, of how _offended_ she would've been if she could see how everyone was acting. _She might still be alive_, he reminded himself, but he knew he wasn't quite ready to find out that answer.

He still had that promise to dance with her, to let her teach him how to not step on her toes or accidentally move the wrong way. The thought that someone _might_ ask him to dance tonight made him feel nauseous, because that wasn't something he was ready for yet.

None of them were his right partner. None of them were Peggy.

So when he heard the girl behind him ask if he was indeed Steve Rogers, he began to panic. She probably wanted to dance offensively with him, or talk his ear off about how _famous_ he was and how much of a _fan_ she was. So, praying that she would go away quickly, he said, "Yes," turning around only out of courtesy.

Much to his surprise, the woman behind him wasn't showing as much skin as everyone else. In fact, every area that—if exposed—had made him divert his eyes was covered up. The only skin below her neck that she showed was her arms, which were bare. Very thankful that she knew how to dress properly, he observed that she was actually very pretty. Her dress was a pale blue, a color that was suitable for winter, reminding him of snow and cold air and ice. She pinned her dark curls up, and she wore _absolutely_ no shoes.

If he had been anyone else, he might have found her odd, a sore thumb. But, Steve was more than thankful that _she_ had been the one to approach him. Well, until she spoke.

"I know you're hot and all," she told him, "but it's _freezing_ out here. Shouldn't you be wearing, like, a coat or something?" Her feet carried her toward him, and he suddenly felt himself blush. Even though he'd been hearing it all night, he still wasn't used to modern-day flirting.

"I'm fine," he muttered, looking down at the street below him.

Like many of the other girls, however, she demanded his attention whenever she spoke. "How come you're out here, and not inside? I'm near positive that you would get _plenty_ of positive attention if you started dancing."

Shaking his head, he responded, "I don't know how to dance, and I don't like Stark's kind of parties. And, anyways," he added, suddenly thinking of something, "how did you know my name?"

His eyes turned in her direction in time to see her shrug and thrust her hand in his direction. "Darcy Lewis," she told him as he shook her hand. "I work under Jane Foster, who is dating a certain god that you're pretty well acquainted with."

_Now_ he recognized her. She and Jane had come by the tower in October—or was it November?—to visit Thor when he had returned to Earth for a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission. He hadn't really talked with her, but he'd seen her from a distance. And heard her from a distance as well; her voice carried _really_ easily.

"I remember you vaguely, Darcy," he told her, smiling that at least he _kind_ of knew someone. The rest of the Avengers had disappeared into the crowd the moment it had started, so he had nobody to talk to except complete strangers. Darcy was… well, Darcy was a relief.

Pretending to pout, she said, "You should remember me more than _vaguely_. Hell, I should be _unforgettable_. Thor won't ever forget me; did he tell you I tased him once?"

"I… uhh… what's that mean?" He felt himself blushed, embarrassed that he—once again—did not understand what she was talking about.

He expected her to look at him like he was crazy—because probably everyone _else_ in the world knew what a taser was—but she instead smacked herself in the face. "You're from the forties, duh," she said into her hand, before removing it from her face. "A taser shoots out these wires that—if they both attach to your body—it electrocutes you. Now that I think about it, it was kind of ironic that I electrocuted the god of thunder." She started giggling at that revelation, and he couldn't help but chuckle himself.

From there, the two of them began talking about themselves. Darcy launched into what she was studying in college and how she had met Jane and wasn't going to leave Jane because "I'd much rather hang out with gods and superheroes than get some job without either," while Steve found himself telling her about his problems with adapting to the normal world, how he'd been before he took the super soldier serum, and what the war was like. He found himself avoiding the topics of Bucky and Peggy, but that didn't really surprise him. He knew he wasn't ready yet, and would eventually talk about it when he had some… time. And he had to find closure too.

It turned out that Darcy was really funny; he found that—while he did get uncomfortable by some of her jokes—he didn't mind her inappropriate humor one bit. She was also a flirt, yet another thing that he didn't seem to mind about her.

Still, she couldn't help but surprise him when she suddenly froze mid-sentence, a huge grin splitting across her face as the beat to some song entered the balcony. "Dude, Tony's going to play _this song?!_" she asked as she grabbed Steve's hand, pulling him in the direction of the party.

Startled, he tried to pull back, chanting, "No no no no no!"

"What?" she asked, turning around, surprised.

"I can't dance. At all."

"I'll teach you. This one is easy."

"I promised her—"

"Who?" she asked, stopping to study him. "Thor told Jane that you lost someone you loved. Is that who you're talking about?"

He could feel tears sting at his eyes; she knew. She knew, and had avoided the subject purposefully. Did everyone _else_ know? But, instead of saying anything, he just nodded.

Her face softened, and she loosened her hold on his hand. "I know you miss her," she said softly, "but you can't give up the chance to dance to this song. _Please_ come with me, Steve. It's _coooold_." Her eyes widened like a dog's, but it was the tone in her voice that did him in. He nodded, tightening his own grip on her fingers, and she quickly led him in just as the music paused.

And then…

"Oppan Gangnam Style!"

He and Darcy found a spot to dance just as everyone broke out into the same moves, Darcy joining in. "I'll teach you at the next verse," she said loudly, trying to talk over the blaring music. "Just try and follow along for now."

Steve did try; oh, he tried. But the way everyone was stepping and waving made no sense to Steve's uncoordinated body and mind, so all he managed to accomplish was looking like a dork and making Darcy laugh at him.

When they finally reached a part of the song where it didn't sound like English at all—and everyone began dancing however they felt—Darcy quickly stepped in front of him, prepared him in the way of dancing to this song. This must be a new experience for her, because she kept chewing her lip.

"Okay, let's see if I can do this," she told him. "I mean, I watched the singer teach Britney Spears how to do this on Ellen, and she was in heals. I can… I think I can do this."

"What?" he asked, too many references going right over his head.

"Never mind me," she told him, pointing at his arms. "You had them crossed correctly, you need to just loosen them up. Like this." She demonstrated, and he tried it with her before seeing that it wasn't that difficult. "When everyone goes up for the lasso," she added, demonstrating, "make sure that you keep the non-lasso arm moving in the same way. Like so."

"Okay," he said, nodding and trying it out for himself. "Okay, doesn't seem too bad."

"Now the footwork," she said, demonstrating it once. "It goes left, right, left, left. And then, right, left, right, right. Does that make sense?" Just as he was about to respond to her that it was harder than it looked, the song went quiet.

"Get ready," she told him just as the voice said, "Oppan Gangnam Style!"

This time, the dance went a little more smoothly. His footwork got a little screwed up somewhere, and he ended up being a little off from everyone else. But his arms were moving properly, and he found himself laughing. Darcy was laughing too, her snorting and giggling making him smile. This Darcy… she was a huge relief. And a lot of fun.

And really pretty.

They finished out the song that he _thought_ was called _Gangnam Style_, him copying whatever move she did whenever it wasn't the chorus. It quickly switched over to some song that he immediately didn't like, and he quit dancing.

"Oh, c'mon, Steve!" she whined, doing some choppy, awkward dance move that everyone else was doing. "You're being no fun!"

"This song… it's really… I don't like it."

Darcy laughed, reaching over and grabbing his hands. "That's rap for you," she announced, beginning to swing his arms left and right.

Glancing around the room—and quickly looking away when he saw _some_ of the dancers—he added, "I don't like the dance moves either."

After Darcy looked to see what he was talking about, she smirked. "Oh yeah, that's called grinding. I'm not really surprised that you don't like it; I doubt the overly-polite Captain America would like to watch people grinding."

She lifted his hands up slightly, and he found himself asking, "Have you ever, um… ground before?" He was blushing, trying to imagine it.

Much to his surprise, she nodded eagerly. "Not tonight, but I've done before, when I've been pretty drunk. No drinking or grinding or slutty clothes for me tonight, though. I didn't feel like making a fool out of myself."

"Good idea," he agreed, smiling.

"Come on, Steve!" she said, sounding like she was whining as she pulled on his arms. "Let's dance."

He tried imagining himself dancing like that, dancing with _Peggy_ like that, and he shook his head. "Peggy wouldn't like this," he told her.

"You don't have to dance like _that_," she informed him, suddenly spinning them both in a circle. "Who says you have to dance like that?"

She was right, of course. There were appropriate ways to dance. For the next couple hours, Darcy and he were spinning around, acting like dorks. She taught him a couple of older moves, and he tried imitating them (and failed pretty badly at it). But, surprisingly, he had a great time. And, he didn't feel guilty about Darcy teaching him how to dance.

Once several people began filing out—it was around three in the morning, and things were beginning to wind down—Darcy let out a large yawn, a signal that it was probably time for her to leave. "Lord, that was a lot of fun," she announced, leaning tiredly against Steve's chest for a moment. "Did you have fun?"

Chuckling to himself, he told her, "Yeah, I actually did. That was… that was great."

"Good," she said, backing up and reaching into a pocket on her dress. Since when did _that_ have a pocket? "Here!" She handed him a little slip of paper, a phone number written on it. "Tony told me he had taught you how to work a phone. So, call me sometime, kay?"

Then, standing on the tips of her bare toes, Darcy gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Realization hitting him, he stated, "You planned to do that the whole time, didn't you." After all, he hadn't really left her side—he would've gotten lost in the craziness—and he _knew_ that she had no time to write her phone number down.

Nodding, she announced, "Yup! Consider it better than successful." And, in the way that she was smiling, Steve knew that she wanted to dance with him again.

"Now," she said, stepping back and glancing around, "do you wanna help me find my shoes?"


End file.
